RANDOM REMINDER

Press, Volume CXIV, Issue 33520, 29 April 1974, Page 19

RANDOM REMINDER

BREAKING POINT

He is a keen golfer, and by no means a bad one. He belongs, one might say. to the upper middle class, as a player. But it was one of those days. It was very hot. but he felt he was playing well. He knew he was hitting the ball properly his timing was good, he seemed to have a satisfactory assessment of distance. But nothing went quite right. His ball kept hitting little ridges and going fractionally off line. H i s delicately-judged putts regularly rimmed the hole, or stopped within a centimetre of the middle. His own frustrations were compounded by the gross good fortune of the others, who had birdies after cannoning off trees.

who chipped in from off the green. or sank enormous putts, with great gusty expressions of satisfaction. And it really was very, very hot. He kept fighting his opponents and a malignant fate for 12 soulsearching holes. All the while, nothing went right for him, although it seemed inarguable that he was playing better than any of the others. Fate smiled on him at last, as they finished off at the twelfth. One of his companions, with a beatific smile, announced that he had some cold cans of beer in his bag, kept at a proper temperature in one of those cunning little contraptions built for just such a purpose. There were four

cans, one for each, and he opened them, generously. But they said they would hit off the thirteenth tee before taking their refreshment. Numbers one, two and three did so. and attacked their liquid avidly. It was terribly hot. Our hero, inevitably, because of his misfortunes, was last to drive. But he hit his ball and summoned up an unexpected burst of speed towards his can, which was on a seat beside the tee. One of his opponents had been resting a foot on the seat. He removed the foot. The seat tipped. The can went over, the beer gushed out. The hollow, maniacal laughter can still be heard, it is said, on hot, still days.